Erik's Tigress
by angelofmusic45
Summary: A newcomer to the opera house with extraordinary talent meets a man not unlike herself. ErikOC PairingrnRated R for sexual content, some gruesome descriptions (nothing bad, just people with weak stomachs wouldn't be pleased), and a few swears. Not bad one
1. Prologue

Title- Erik's Tigress

Pairing-Erik/OC

Rating-R

Summary-Victoria, a new arrival at the Opera Populaire, hears rumors of a famed "Opera Ghost", but doesn't believe and just thinks it is a tall tale. That is, until, she receives mysterious notes…

Disclaimer-Obviously, I don't own the rights to Phantom, so don't sue me. Language, sexual content, possible violence, I haven't made up my mind yet.

Introduction

I knew since I was 6 years old that I wanted to be a ballerina. At age 13, I had a secret desire to be an opera singer. No one knew I had a singing voice though. At age 18, I entered the Opera Populaire, and from then on, my life hasn't been the same.

I was encouraged to go study at the Opera by my mother, who has since died. It was her dying wish for me to study there, and fulfill it I shall. I never knew my father; he died when my mother was still pregnant with me. I was my mother's only child, her little angel, her "precious jewel".

People describe me as the epitome of a perfect ballerina-long, graceful legs, slender, and beautiful, with my sparkling olive green eyes and flowing blonde hair that ends a little past my shoulders. I am not as tall as an average ballerina, however, but my height makes me more agile.

The only person who has heard me sing is myself. I practice all of the time, however-I sing softly to myself, hum, and sometimes when no one is around, I practice aloud. I would audition for operas, for singing parts, yet I am afraid I will be laughed at. I have had no formal training or teaching, therefore I think myself as good as the next girl. I am happy, however, just dancing, for it is my passion. Although I don't fit in with the other girls, in their clique of giggling and gossiping, I am quite content. I have a wonderful teacher, Madame Giry, a warm bed, shelter, food, and I get to pursue my dream. Not many can say such things about their lives.


	2. Chapter 1 Notes

Chapter 1-Notes

"Very good girls, tres bon!" Madame Giry says, watching her ballerinas gracefully leap, twirl, pirouette, and spin. "Very lovely indeed, my darlings. Well, I should think that is enough for today, go and get some rest. Bon soir. Victoria, may I have a moment, sil vous plait?"

"Oui Madame." You go to Madame Giry, curious at what she could want.

"Mon fille," my girl, "I have noticed that you have improved very much since you had first came to me 3 weeks ago. I wanted to congratulate you, for tomorrow night, you will have the lead in Act III, the Dance of the Gypsies."

"Oh, Madame! Really?"

"Oui." She smiled warmly at you. "You deserve it."

"Merci Madame! Merci, merci, merci!" You practically prance out of the room with joy! Lead in the Dance of the Gypsies! The managers certainly are to notice you now; perhaps they will give you a larger role in the next production! You can't help but sing once you get to your room. Sweet notes echo through the halls. People stop what they are doing, just to hear the beautiful song. Madame Giry stops dead outside your door, listening in disbelief. She runs to her room, takes out a piece of parchment, and quickly scratches down a message. It reads-

Erik-

Young ballerina by the name of Victoria Lacasse has just what you are looking for.

Marie

She seals it with a few drops of wax from her burning candle, and slips it through a slit in her closet door…

Meanwhile, you notice what you are doing, and the volume at which you are doing it. Embarrassed, you stop immediately, and begin to change out of your practice clothes. You pull on a simple cornflower blue dress, and take your hair out of the bun it has been up in all day. You tie a simple blue silk ribbon around your golden hair to keep it out of your face, and begin to head out of your room. Suddenly, you hear something fall to the ground. It wasn't a loud noise, just as if you had dropped…

"A letter?" You stare at the ground, in disbelief. A letter had just fallen from your ceiling. You look up, to see if you can find the source from which it came. Nothing. You go over to it, and pick it up. It is sealed with a red wax skull. You carefully peel away the wax, still glancing at the ceiling to see if anything else might fall through, and take out a small piece of parchment. The handwriting is large and opulent.

Dear Victoria-

I have been informed that you are not only a magnificent dancer, but within you lies the beautiful gift of song. From what I have heard, you sing like an angel, but with my help, you can be the best that this opera house has ever seen. If you accept my offer, meet me in the dance room at 10 pm sharp.

Your Angel of music

You read and re-read the letter. Your heart begins to race as your hand goes over the ornate scripture, and you decide right then and there: you are taking the lessons.

Now, although you seem very innocent and shy, you have not let your true colors shine through yet. Inside, you are a fiery young lady, and have often been called the names feisty, incorrigible, and argumentative. Apparently, you get it from your father. You seem delicate, but you could easily fight any man and usually win. That was thanks to your uncle who taught you how to fight, for he says there are too many treacherous people about for a young lady to go around not knowing how to defend herself. But, also, your mother was in you. Ladylike, polite, kind, and compassionate, you tend to see the good in almost everything.

If this were some sort of joke, whoever played it on you will pay. You don't like not knowing what is going on, or getting teased.

After dinner, you return to your room, and sit on the bed, anxiously waiting the chime of ten o'clock.


	3. Chapter 2 The Angel

Chapter 2- The Angel

As directed, you arrive promptly at 10 in the dance room. You wait patiently, heart racing, stomach flip flopping with anxiousness. You were beginning to think that this was a joke being played on you, when you heard the ruffle of a cape. "Hello?" you whisper.

"Sing." A deep voice demands.

"I beg your pardon?" you respond, somewhat annoyed at the terseness of the comment.

"I said, sing." The voice demanded again.

"And what makes you think that I would sing when someone asks like that?" You are beginning to get very annoyed with this person, whoever they were. "Monsieur, I shall not sing until you reveal yourself and you stop being so rude." There was no answer. With a quiet, "Hmph!" you head towards the door, when it suddenly slams shut by itself, blowing out all of the candles that were lit. You strain your eyes to see in the darkness. You whirl around, searching for any sign of this mysterious man.

"Sing now or consequences will occur."

"Ohh, I'll show YOU consequences monsieur." You begin to turn pink with aggravation and anger. You hear the ruffle of a cape, then feel gloved hands grabbing hold of your shoulders. They begin to apply bone crushing pressure, but you do not whimper, only grimace in pain.

"No matter how strong you are, my dear, pupils shall not respond to their teachers in such a disrespectful manner. You must learn to control your tongue and temper." He releases, but not before you grab one of his hands and throw him in front of you.

You give a half smile, then very swiftly, your fist and his jaw connect. He stumbles back in surprise, and laughs a little.

"And what, monsieur, may I inquire is so very funny?" You are very angry now, for not only has he demanded things from you, he has tried to hurt you.

"You little viper, you. When your master commands you to sing, you must learn to not be so rude. You would not want something to happen to your gorgeous dancer's legs, would you?"

As soon as he finished saying this, you feel a rope around your ankles, and within seconds and one rather good pull, you are face first on the ground.. "Monsieur," you manage to gasp out, you had gotten the wind knocked out of you, "I will sing….only if…I can see…who you are..and you..stop being..so..very..demanding and rude.."

"But my little songbird, looks can be deceiving. Yours certainly are." The rope around your ankles loosens and vanishes. A gloved hand reaches out to help you up. You ignore it, and get up on your own, slapping the hand away. "Now, my little tigress, will you sing?"

"Now, mysterious monsieur, may I see your face?"

"You just don't give up, do you?" he replied, somewhat annoyed.

"If I sing, will you reveal yourself, and stop demanding things?"

"It depends on how well you sing."

"Very well." You reply smugly. "What shall my master have his servant do?" You say sadistically, rolling your eyes.

"Just warm up, from your lowest note to the highest, back to the lowest." He says with aggravation.

You do as your "master" commands, and you do it flawlessly. "Was that satisfactory?" you spat at him.

"Very much so. But you need my assistance in order to be great. Although I must say, it was better than La Carlotta could ever dream of doing."

You smirk at this comment. La Carlotta, the designated diva of the Opera Populaire, was past her prime, and all but her realized it. She threw childish tantrums when something did not go her way, and she threatened to leave and give bad publicity to the theatre, so the managers did all they could to keep her, such as giving all principle roles to her.

"So, monsieur, our deal? You will now show yourself?"

You hear a ruffle of a cloak, then nothing. The candles in the room ignite suddenly, and there is no one there but you. You leave the room that night, confused, curious, annoyed, yet mysteriously pleased with yourself.

You arrive in your room and there is another note waiting for you. You open this one, and it reads:

My little tigress,

What a performance you displayed for me tonight. You have a wonderful talent, but your temper is quite the contrary. Learn to hold your tongue around your master, it is not fitting for a pupil to display that kind of rebelliousness and demanding towards their teacher. Your lessons shall continue until I deem necessary, and we shall always meet 10pm sharp in the dance room, unless otherwise noted. I shall be watching your performance tomorrow; I expect the best from a student of mine. One final thing: no one shall ever learn of our meetings. I do not exist when you are not in the room, and no one shall know of your lessons. If anyone were to find out, dire consequences will occur.

Your Angel

You put the letter in your mother's jewelry box, and dress in your nightclothes. You feel exhausted, but when you get into your bed, all you can think about is your teacher, and how much he demands from you. You were beginning to question your decision, but sleep had taken hold of you.


	4. Chapter 3 Candles

Chapter 3- Candles

You awake the next morning, excited for the performance that night. You get out of bed, dress in a green smock, and happen to glance at your vanity. You see that on top of your jewelry box, there is a note from your teacher.

"How did you get out of there?" Assuming that it is the same note from last night, you put it in your jewelry box, and head down for breakfast.

You return to your room after eating, and to calm your nerves you sit in a red velvet chair in the corner of the room to read your favorite book, a collection of Shakespearean sonnets.

While reading, you happen to glance up and you see another note on top of your jewelry box. You close the worn old book and sit at your vanity. You pick up the note, and turn it around. It is a new note. Curious, you open the jewelry box and take out the note you had put in but an hour ago. That too, was sealed. You open the older of the two, and notice it is the same large opulent script.

My tigress,

Good morrow. I hope you have slept well. Our lesson shall not be held in the dance room, for I feel the need for a much more private area. Therefore, rehearsal shall be held in your room. 10 pm sharp, expect me to knock thrice at your door. If I do not come calling at 10, at 10:30, come to the dance room, and I will find a more suitable classroom.

Your Angel of music

You roll your eyes.

"He could have just said, 'I'll be in your room at 10. If not, go to the usual place." You sigh, then open the most recent one. It is a repeat of the last, insurance in case you discarded the first. Feeling rather annoyed with your teacher, how he commands you places, you decide to write him a letter back.

Monsieur Someone,

Your request is ill received. I do not wish to have a man I do not know in my bed chamber. Although you think to be my teacher, I do not even have a name to call you by, let alone know your face. I will meet you in the dance room, and we will rehearse there.

Victoria

You seal the letter with a few drops of wax, and press a rose shaped ring into the blue wax for a little customization. You leave it where the mysterious monsieur left all of your letters, and you leave your dormitory to stretch your legs with a walk.

You end up walking around the city, before returning to the Opera Populaire around 4 pm. You return to your dormitory to get ready for tonight's performance, when the letter you left is replaced with one from your teacher. You open it, eager to see his reply.

My little viper,

What did I say about holding your tongue and the level of respect for your teacher? 10 pm tonight, in your room. And you can call me Opera Ghost.

O.G

You are infuriated with this response. You don't even take the time to get a new piece of parchment, you just flip his over and scribble down:

Oppressing Gnome-

I will be waiting at 10 pm in the dance room.

Victoria

You furiously stuff the note back into the envelope, a little too furiously however. You give yourself a paper cut, and the blood seeps into the paper.

"Wonderful" you grumble you yourself.

You haphazardly pour excess wax from a burning candle on top of the red skull, and slam it down.

It then dawns on you, if you wait in your room and he does not show, it means that you have control over the teacher. Also, all the lights can be extinguished from your room, letting you take the advantage. It seems your teacher does not want to reveal his face. So, if he does come to your room, when he enters looking for you, you can quickly light a match and catch a glimpse of his face. Either action is sure to enrage him, and show him that you outsmarted your "master". Maybe then he will become less demanding.

Smirking as you put together your plot, you get into makeup and costume. Before you leave, you extinguish all candles except one, so you can see when you return. Taking one last look over your dormitory to be sure you didn't forget anything, you glimpse at your vanity, and the note for your teacher is gone.


	5. Chapter 4 Tempers

Chapter 4- Temper

"Bravo! Encore!" The audience yells at you. You curtsy one final time, then exit the stage. The rest of the cast takes their bows, and the crimson and gold curtains close. Smiling at your success, you ask a stage hand the time.

"10 minutes till ten o'clock, miss. Well done tonight!"

You thank him and run to your room. Quickly changing into a pink dress and tying your curled hair back with a pink bow, you throw your costume on your bed. While tossing it aside, you noticed that it covered something. You move it to reveal a red rose, thorn less, with a black velvet ribbon tied to it.

Smiling to yourself, you take the pink bow out of your hair and replace it with the black one.

"At least he knows how to treat a girl," you say to yourself. Then, from down the hall, you hear the clock chime.

Dong. Dong. Dong.

You quickly extinguish the candle, but keep a strike-anywhere match in your hand.

Dong. Dong. Dong. Dong.

You wait behind the door, to jump the Opera Ghost if he arrives.

Dong. Dong. Dong.

The final chime echoes through the hall, and no one has yet been heard coming down the hall.

All of a sudden, you hear the creak of your doorknob turn. The door slowly opens, and you strike the match. It ignites, throwing a gleam of light in the dark room. A face turns your way. The eyes widen with surprise, and they extinguish the match, but not before you can get a good glimpse of them.

The man is strikingly handsome, a strong chin, brown hair slicked back, perfectly full lips.

Surprisingly, however, most of the left side of the man's handsome visage is covered in a white mask. Before he extinguished the light, you looked into his eyes. In them, you saw surprise, anger, yet all the sadness of the world. His eyes were almost hypnotic, keeping you in a trance until the light vanished.

"YOU LITTLE DEMON! HOW DARE YOU DISOBEY MY ORDERS!" He yells. You are taken aback by the pure volume of his voice, but you are not one to stand and get yelled at for curiosity.

"WELL, MONSIEUR ORDERING GOOSE,"

"OPERA GHOST!" He screams.

"WHICHEVER! HOW DARE YOU ENTER A LADY'S BEDCHAMBER WHEN SHE REQUESTED THAT YOU DO NOT!" Your face is turning red with anger. "BESIDES YOU DEMANDING GHOUL, FOR WANTING A SECRET PLACE, YOU ATTRACT A HELL OF A LOT OF ATTENTION WITH THE VOLUME OF YOUR VOICE!"

You storm out of the room, catching stares from your fellow peers. You head for the stage again, for everyone has left the auditorium and all actors are off the stage. You hear footsteps behind you, but that just makes you walk faster. As they seem to be catching up, you run, trying to get rid of them. You get to the stage, and while running you look over your shoulder to see if they are still pursuing you.

You slam into something hard and warm, and you fall backwards.

"Ow.."

"You little.." He grabbed your wrist. "Prying…" He held on to it tighter and tighter. "Pandora!"

He pulled you up with such force that you ended up slamming into his chest, and your arms grabbed around his neck for balance. His arms stayed out behind your back, in shock.

You were somewhat enjoying your "fall" when you realized that you were practically hugging your attacker. You let go quickly and backed up to look at him. There were stage lights still lit, and you could clearly see his face. He was attractive, and that mask made him all the more appealing. You gazed into his rich brown eyes, and saw his surprise that you hadn't rebelled yet. They were still full of anguish and pain.

He looked down, breaking the soul search. You looked at him, and quietly said, "What is your name?" He didn't respond. "Please?" you beg.

"I have no name."

You walk up to him, put your hand under his hung head, and lift it up. You lock eyes with him. "Please."

"My name is Erik." He responds quietly.

"Would you like me to sing for you, Erik?" You can see that it is not anger he has, but sadness. His outbursts serve as ways to express it.

"You still wish to sing for me?" he asks in wonder.

You begin your aria, and he comes behind you. He puts a gloved hand on your stomach and one on your throat, helping you project and breathe. His hands inspire you to sing as well as possible. The notes issuing from your vocal chords are pure perfection, sweet and lovely.

When you finish, his hands remain there for a short period of time. You go back stage to grab two chairs, but when you return, Erik has left. You sigh, return the chairs, and return to your room. When you get there, a note is waiting for you. You open it with eagerness.

Dearest Angel of Music,

I apologize for the way I have acted over the past few days. I admit, I was overly demanding and my temper was very large and it took very little to set it off. You sang marvelously tonight. I request, at your behalf, another lesson, tomorrow night at 10 pm in the dance room. Bravo, my tigress.

Erik

Your heart melts when you read how he signed the letter. _Erik_. You grab a piece of parchment and write back:

Dearest Erik,

Your request shall be my command. I apologize as well, it was wrong to be so sneaky and disrespectful. I do have one question for my Angel of music, however. Why keep such a handsome visage hidden in darkness, and behind a mask?

Your tigress

You put the parchment in the envelope, then take it out. You spritz some of your perfume on the letter, then seal it with blue wax and the rose stamp. You place it where your letter was found, and as you turn down your bed, another rose with a black ribbon was left on your pillow.

You turn to put it in the vase with the other, and see that your note is gone.


	6. Chapter 5 The Man Behind the Mask

Chapter 5: The Man Behind the Mask

You awake the next morning to find a note from Erik next to you on your pillow. You open it and read the ornate text.

Dearest Tigress,

Some things are best kept hidden.

Your Angel, Erik.

You ponder what he means by this. From what you can tell, he is an attractive man. Lonely, and has anger problems from time to time, but you do not understand why he would want his face to be kept hidden.

You report for lessons that evening, and the evening after. They continue like this for many months, and your singing has greatly improved. Erik gets to know you very well, though he very rarely discloses anything about himself. He keeps repeating to you, "Some things are best kept hidden."

One night, you get up the nerve to ask him, in person, why he keeps the mask on.

"Some things are-"

"No. Why do you wear the mask?"

He looked at you, and began to repeat what he was going to say previously. You take a step towards him and repeat, "No, Erik. Why do you wear the mask?" Anger flashes in both of your eyes. "You wouldn't understand."

"Maybe I would."

"You WOULD NOT!" He turns, frustrated and angry, regretting his outburst at you. He knows you don't take his outbursts, you throw something right back at him. Usually. But now, there was silence.

He turns around, and you are not there. You pulled one of his vanishing acts on him.

Frustrated and a little hurt, he exits the room. He returns to his lair, but makes a stop first. He stops at your room, for there is a secret pathway behind your mirror that you have yet to know about. That is how he has been dropping and picking up the notes.

He sees the familiar blue rose wax stamp, silently enters, picks up the letter, and blows you a kiss-you don't hear or see him, for you are fast asleep- and leaves the way he came. While walking back, he reads your letter.

Erik-

Why do you hide your beautiful face behind the mask? We have become good friends, yet I know so little of you. I know your soul matches your face-attractive, kind, and extremely gifted. So please, tell me, why?

Victoria

He replaces the letter inside of the envelope, and when he gets to his lair, he puts it where he has kept all of your others. He falls into his bed, and begins to weep.

You awake a few hours later, heart racing. You just awoke from a horrible nightmare. Tears streak your face. You look around your room, feeling unsafe and scared. You room is completely dark, except for a vertical line of dim light, coming from your mirror. Curiously, tears still flowing down your face, you head towards the mirror. You insert your fingers in the opening, sliding the mirror aside. There is a long hallway behind your mirror, and you follow it.

You begin to shiver, as you were so tired you flung yourself into bed with only your navy blue corset, silk robe, and garters on. You regret being lazy, for it is very cold in this hallway. You follow the hallway to the end, and it comes to a wall of glass, covered by a sheet. A corner of the glass remained uncovered from the sheet, and you kneel down to look through it.

You see a lake, and a candelabra. You look for some way to get through here, and you find a small hole big enough for one finger to fit through. You insert it, and slide the glass to the left silently.

You enter, and are in awe of what lies before you.

An underground lair, with candles all around, and a boat for getting across the lake was on the shore. There was an ancient organ, a small desk covered with different musical scores, and a huge bed draped with crimson and black silk. You walk silently, looking around.

Suddenly, you hear footsteps.

Panicking, you hide behind the organ. You peek through the organ pipes, and you see Erik, recovering the mirror.

You breathe a sigh of relief, and run to him, still crying from your dream.

"Oh, Erik!" you sob. You embrace him, and cry into his shoulder.

He is so taken by surprise that he pushes you away. You fall to the ground, sobbing.

"Victoria?"

You look up, and his hand is covering the left side of his face.

"Erik," you say, not even noticing his hand covering his face, "I had the most horrible dream! It was awful! I was waiting for you in the dance room, for my lesson. And you never came. I returned to my room, and there you were, waiting for me, with a rose. I took the rose, but before I could say anything, someone barged into my room with a knife!" Tears are openly streaming down your face, and your breathing is short and hurried.

"You threw yourself in front of me, and he stabbed you over and over and over! You fell back and I caught you. You were drenched in blood. You reached up and touched my face, then died! My hands were covered with your blood, and then I was blamed for the murder!"

While telling him your dream, you slowly get up, wincing, for you twisted your right ankle when you fell. After you were finished, you burst into hysterics, and began to walk towards him.

He backed away, afraid you would be horrified of a glimpse at his face. You fell forward, your ankle gave out.

He ran forward and caught you, and you both sank to the floor. You embraced him, sobbing into his shoulder. He embraced you back, and you felt like you wanted to stay that way forever.

When you finally regained your composure, you let go. You looked at him, and he didn't have his mask on. He quickly tried to hide his deformity with his hand, but you saw it.

He turned his face. "Don't look at me," he said sadly, "I am a monster."

You put your hand under his chin and turned his face towards you. You touch his hand covering his face, and gently take it away.

You touch the deformed side of his face with your hand, caressing it.

You look deep into his eyes, and reply, "No, you are beautiful."

He looks at you with the sadness gone from his eyes, passion and love replacing it.

You gently pull his face towards you, and your lips touch with a sweet innocent kiss. You pull away, smiling. He smiles right back, and you kiss him again, this time a kiss full of passion and love.

When you pull away, you put your lips near his ear.

"Erik," you whisper, "I told them, in my dream, that I wouldn't kill the man I loved." He looks at you, in awe. "Do, does that mean," he mumbles.

"Yes," you whisper,

"I love you."


	7. Chapter 6 The Passion Play Begins

Chapter 6- The Passion Play begins

You awake the next morning in Erik's bed, his strong arm around your bare stomach. You feel his warm breath on your neck, rhythmic and calming. Just remembering last night makes you smile.

Your bodies merged together in beautiful music, the music of the night. His strong, lean muscular body, engulfing you, covering you, warming you.

Your pale, soft skin rubbing with his rugged body, in unison. The thrusting, magical movements of passion. The heavenly feeling that passion exerts. The heat of two bodies in unison.

You could hardly believe that it was real, that is, until, he awoke, kissing your bare back. You remember the kisses that he planted all over your body, giving you goose bumps. You still got the same reaction this morning.

You turn over, and give him a passionate, playful kiss.

"Good morning, my angel." He says. His mask is back on. You gaze in his eyes, and give him sweet kisses all over his face, slowly taking his mask off.

He begins to resist, but you take his hands and place them on your chest. He stops, and you take the mask off, revealing the true him, the beautiful, wonderful Erik you fell in love with.

"That's better," you reply.

You embrace each other, bare skin touching. You want to stay like this forever. "I've got something for you," he whispers in your ear. You admire his exquisite body get out of the bed, and walk over to the desk.

"Close your eyes." He says.

You do so, smiling. You feel something caressing your naked body, and you open your eyes.

It's a red rose, with a black ribbon on it. But tied to the black ribbon was…

"Oh Erik! It's beautiful!"

"It's just a token of my appreciation, and an award of all you accomplished."

He unties the ribbon, taking the ring off.

He puts it on your right ring finger. You look at it, sparkling in the candlelight. A rather large pink topaz stone, surrounded by 2 smaller sapphires, and in the silver band, diamonds lay encrusted.

You give him a long, deep, loving, passionate kiss.

"Thank you so much!"

He begins to laugh.

"What's so funny?" you say smiling.

"Nothing."

"What?"

"This!" He jumps on you, and begins to tickle you, which soon turns into kissing, which turns into making love.

Later, you get back into your corset and robe. Erik puts on his normal attire, and escorts you back to your room.

"Ten o'clock tonight, darling?" you ask.

"Of course. Did your master instruct you otherwise?"

"Watch it." You say, playfully.

"I'd better go, before someone catches us."

"Goodbye. I love you." With a passionate kiss, he is gone, and you are left remembering the wonderful memories last night made.


	8. Chapter 7 Clocks

_A/N: Thanks to all who replied, I appreciate your thoughts and if you give me ideas for the story, who knows? Maybe your hand could dip into the fate of Erik and Victoria!_

Chapter 7: Dreams

Watching him step through the mirror, you instantly long for it to be 10 o'clock. You look at the mahogany grandfather clock in the corner of your sheer pink dormitory. The old man reads 2 o'clock in the afternoon.

You sigh, then undress to change into a pale green frock with a scalloped neckline. However, when you walk over to the mirror to see your reflection, you see the results of Erik's and your passion: small purple bruises strewn across your chest. You giggle as you look at yourself in the mirror and warmly remember the night before. Sighing, you take it off, and walk over to the armoire and take out a red dress with a high lace neckline. You walk once again to the tall mirror, frowning somewhat-it looks too formal.

"Oh well," you say aloud to yourself, "this will have to do."

You walk out of the room just to re enter, you have forgotten your old, worn, ratty pink pointe shoes.

You look for them where you last threw them: your vanity.

You search around your room until, at last, you see them hanging up on the wall, with a solitary crimson rose in one of them.

"Thank you, angel," you whisper, then leave in a flash.

After many hours on your toes, you are utterly exhausted. You fell down twice, flaming up the right ankle injury you sustained the night before.

You wearily walk back to your dormitory, throw your sweaty red dress on the floor and flop down on your bed, with only your red corset and ratty ballet shoes on. You take one final glance at the old clock. 9:30. "I'm sure I can rest for half and hour.."

Sleep takes you immediately.

You awake with a start, hearing your clock begin to chime.

Dong.

You wait for more to come, but they do not.

"Stupid clock," you mumble to yourself, and you take a candle that dangerously wasn't extinguished before you passed out. You shine the tiny ball of light on the clock, and it's ticking perfectly. Except for one bad thing.

It is one in the morning.

"SHIT!"

You hastily blow out the candle, not even bothering to throw something on over your corset and garters. You push open the mirror quickly, and run down the passageway.

Your ankle gives out more than once, leaving your knees and wrists all scraped up and bloody, and your ankle more than a little inflamed.

When it gives out again, you can't resist but to cry out in pain. You look down and see that your pink pointe shoes are now blood red at the tip-your feet were bleeding so much that they bled through your shoes.

Despite the pain, you push yourself up and continue to run until you reach the mirror.

But there is no mirror there. Just a shattered pile of glass shards.

"Erik?"

You carefully walk through the shattered mirror, but manage to give yourself a deep cut on your shoulder.

"OUCH!"

You cover your mouth, hoping Erik didn't hear you, but you hear the ruffle of a cloak and then feel warm breath on your neck.

"Where were you?" his deep, silky voice says quietly, brimming with rage.

"I'm sorry Erik, I was so exhausted, I lied down on my bed for just a few seconds, and I guess I dozed off and…"

"I knew it." He cuts you off.

"Knew what?" you reply, somewhat angered.

"I knew you didn't love me. How could one such as yourself love a hideous MONSTER?" With the outburst of monster he grabs your wrist and throws you infront of him.

"Erik!" Your eyes are full of fear, yet, something flashes before them. Anger.

"IF YOU DIDN'T LOVE ME YOU SHOULD HAVE TOLD ME!"

"ERIK I FELL ASLEEP!" A tear runs down your face, and you are getting angrier by the minute.

"I WAITED FOR YOU ALL NIGHT!" His eyes are full of anguish and pain.

Your face shifts from frightended to angered. "I FELL **ASLEEP!** IT HAPPENS! WHEN PEOPLE ARE TIRED, THEY SLEEP!" You push yourself up, gingerly, and hide a wince. You sneak a gaze at your shoulder, which is now oozing blood, and your legs have streams of blood running down from your knees.

He looks at you, and notices that he just had a fit of rage over something so excusable. His eyes are full of regret, and a tear silently rolls down his cheek. His face is full of anguish.

"Go. Leave me."

"No."

"LEAVE ME!" He screams at you.

"I'M STAYING WHETHER YOU LIKE IT OR NOT!"

You walk over to a chair, and sit down with a "thump".

His eyes follow you there, and watch your every movement.

You bend down, and remove your pointe shoes. You turn them upside down, and watch a stream of blood run from each of them, forming a grotesque puddle of blood on the floor. You give your shoes a look of disgust, then throw them towards the lake, when you feel a sharp pain in your right shoulder.

"OW!" You cast a glance at Erik, but look away quickly, for he caught your gaze.

You look at the cut in your shoulder, and see some shiny bits of glass in it.

"Great. I don't know how I ever became a dancer, I'm so damn clumsy.." you say quietly to yourself.

"Victoria?" Erik asks carefully.

"What Erik?" You say harshly back.

"Can I help you?"

You gaze into his eyes, and you can see that he truly loves you. You cannot resist those startiling blue eyes of his, and are drawn in by them.

Without you even answering, he takes off his cloak and approaches you, slowly. He kneels down slowly and examines your wounds. He leaves the room for a moment, and comes back with gauze pads and rubbing alcohol. He gingerly cleanses your wounds, and removes the shards of glass stuck in your shoulder.

You watch him carefully, lovingly. You see how gentle he is being.

He puts some ointment on your angry red blisters, and examines your ankle. He leaves the room once again, to return this time with ice for your ankle. He puts it on it, and gets up to leave.

You grab his sleeve.

He turns and looks at you.

"I love you." You stand up, wincing, dropping the bag of ice, falling into his chest for your loss of balance. He catches you with his strong, warm arms. You look up at him, place your hand behind his neck, and gently pull his lips closer towards yours.

Your kiss is passionate and loving, warm and tender. Your tongues entwine magically, and he deepens the kiss. Reluctnantly, you pull away from the kiss, needing air. He picks you up, and you automatically put your arms around his neck.

He carries you to the swan bed, and lays you down gently.

"My angel," you whisper, before drawing him in for another passionate kiss. "Stay with me tonight, Erik, I need your strong arms." You give him a sly smile.

"Give me a moment to change, my love." He smiles warmly back at you, and leaves the room to change. You take off your garters, and attempt to get off your corset. Unfortunately, you can't without causing pain to your shoulder.

Erik reappears, dressed only in black silk pajama bottoms and a single red rose in his hand.

"My dear Erik," you say, admiring his perfect chest, "I can't seem to get out of my corset. Would you be so kind, monsieur?" You giggle a bit, and he heads towards the bed, a smile creeping on his face.

TBC


	9. Chapter 8 Tangle in the Winding Sheets

_A/N: This chapter will be a little racy on the sexual level, I feel the need to explain the amount of passion the characters feel for one another. Replies are welcome!_

Chapter 8- Tangled in the Winding Sheets

Erik slowly walks to the bed, almost teasing you.

"Oh, hurry up! My corset is hurting me!" Your eyes shoot him a look of pleading and want.

He smirks, and sits down on the bed. His hand caresses your face, and you reach your left hand up and begin to remove his mask. He begins to pull away at first, then stops dead. You remove it, and his hands shoot up in a natural reaction.

You grab one of his hands with your small hand, and even though one of his could cover both of yours, he stops and lowers them. You smile warmly and caress the broken side of his face.

You lower your hand after a long moment, and place it on your stomach, trying to unclasp your corset yourself.

Your hand is gently brushed aside by Erik's large one, as he begins to fumble with the clasps. You giggle as he struggles, but little by little he manages to undo each tiny wire clasp.

He finally unclasps the last wire, and you take a deep breath.

"Being able to breathe is a wonderful thing, Erik." You say with a smile. You arch your back and pull it out from underneath you, and throw it across the room with your uninjured arm.

He smiles at you, and observes your half naked form. He runs his hands from your neck down the center of your chest, down your stomach, to the crest of the rest of your under attire. You get goose bumps from his touch, and you fight to resist a soft moan.

He kisses from where his hands stopped all the way back up, then to your mouth. By now, you are trembling with delight. You run your arms over his lean, muscular form; his strong arms, graceful back, perfect chest. He engages your mouth in a passionate kiss, full of lust and love.

You pull him onto the bed, on top of you. You can feel that he is enjoying himself through his pants. You kiss him along his jaw line, and you could have sworn that you heard a faint moan escape from his lips.

This entire time, his hands are roaming, exploring the uncharted territory known as your body. You shiver from his touch.

"My darling, are you alright?" he asks, breaking the pleasure for a few seconds; concerned for your trembling and shivering.

"I won't be if you stop what you are doing," you reply seductively.

"But you are trembling," he says, with an expression of concern.

"Hopefully you will be too in a few minutes." You respond with a smile.

He gave you a look of confusion, but as you rolled on top of him and thrust your hips against his flirtatiously, he trembled and let a small moan escape from his desirable lips.

"See what I mean?" you said, smiling.

He couldn't respond, no words would form. He just gave you a kiss of desire.

You run your hands over the front of his body, making him tremble all the more. You reach the end of his stomach, and flash him a look of desire. He didn't see, however, his eyes were closed with the pure pleasure you were giving him.

You moved your hand further south, and stopped on his already hard crotch. You massage it gently through his pants, and he moans audibly.

Unable to restrain himself anymore, he rolls on top of you, and caresses your body in a way that you never thought possible.

You remove the rest of your undergarments, while he strokes your hair. You give him a lusty kiss, full of passion. Desire flashed in your eyes, and he saw it.

His hands roam to your most private area, and his fingers work wonders. You get short of breath, and begin to moan involuntarily. He enjoys your reaction immensely, and continues. You arch your back and yell out his name in a fit of passion. He kisses the sensitive area, then kisses all the way up to your neck.

You roll on top of him, in the process removing his pants. Your hand instantly goes down on his length, massaging it gently. He moans loudly, and you massage it harder. He is on the brink, and you stop. He gives you a look of pleading.

"I'm so horrible," you whisper seductively in his ear.

He rolls on top of you and was about to enter, but then he stops.

He gazes into your eyes, and they are a mirror image of his own, full of love, happiness, passion and desire.

"Erik, please, don't tease me so!" You manage to gasp out.

He enters you, and within a few moments, you both reach the climax. You arch your back and scream his name, and he moans loudly. He lies down on top of your warm naked flesh, savoring the moment. You kiss his forehead, you are both perspiring. You run your hands over his muscular arms and over his hot, moist back. He rests his head on your chest, both of you breathing heavily.

He rises for a few seconds, kissing your chest, and covering you both with a crimson duvet cover.

"I love you, Erik." You say dreamily, stroking his damp hair.

He raises his head for a few moments, looking at your glistening pink face.

"I love you, my tigress."

Within a few minutes, you are both fast asleep.

_A/N- I told you, it definitely was racy! I felt their passion had to be conveyed. I apologize if anyone was offended reading this, but I did it in the most tasteful manner I could think of AND bumped up the rating. Replies are welcome!_


	10. Chapter 9 Lifesaver

_A/N: Can anyone say Erik's POV (Finally!)? I'm open and willing to put in suggestions from replies. So reply it up!_

Chapter 9: Lifesaver

I awoke the next morning, thinking it all to be a dream, not wanting to open my eyes for fear that my mind was once again playing cruel tricks with my heart.

Unwillingly, I slowly opened my eyes, to find a pair of dazzling green ones staring back at me. Clearly, this must be a dream, who would want to look at a monster such as I?

"Good morning, darling," said the pair of green eyes, dreamily. "I thought you were never going to wake up."

I smiled, thinking I was still only dreaming, for this was too good to happen to a beast such as I.

She leaned forward and brushed her lips against mine.

Brushed her lips against mine. I could feel it.

So it wasn't a dream…

Our lips locked passionately, and I swear on my life, nothing in the world is softer than her lips.

"Good morning, _mon tigress, il mio tigresso, meu tigressu._"

"Mmm, 3 languages, you really are smarter than most give you credit for."

She giggled, oh that giggle she has. It melts my heart. It is hard to believe that at one time I believed I had no heart at all.

I stroked her hair, and within a few minutes, she fell back asleep.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

I silently get out of bed, putting on my black silk robe. I slip my mask back on, not wanting to make her look at my face for longer than she can stomach.

I sit at the organ and think about the night's festivities.

I think of the passion, the love, the ultimate sacrifice:

My heart.

I gave my heart to her, and she gave hers to me.

With this in mind, I head to a rather rickety looking oak desk.

I pull a key out from a secret panel beneath the chair and unlock the drawer on the top left.

I take out "Don Juan Triumphant".

Luckily, I viewed this my masterpiece, and made more than one copy.

The original burned in the fire of the Opera Populaire with Christine.

In that fire, my heart burned, my soul burned. My very existence seemed to have burned into a heap of dusty ashes after Christine left me. If Victoria hadn't began to sing that one fateful day.

That day was fateful because she did something most never do in their lifetimes, and she doesn't know a thing about it.

That one cold, rainy day that she was singing softly to herself in her room, unbeknownst that anyone was listening.

That day, my tigress saved my life.

_A/N: wow! My first cliffhanger! Hmm, if you liked Erik's point of view, let me know! If you didn't, well we may never know how little Miss Victoria saved our dear Erik's life._


End file.
